


Questionable Tactics

by The_Quartermasters



Category: One Piece
Genre: Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Imprisonment, Interrogation, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Quartermasters/pseuds/The_Quartermasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Ace in Hina's brig, Smoker has to deal with the imprisonment of one of his most frustrating quarries... not to mention the equally infuriating captain who stole his prize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questionable Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written back in February 2005... what a bittersweet read with what was to come in the characters' story arcs. I didn't label this as non-con/rape because in spite of the circumstances/setting, the sexy bits of this are willingly resolved mutual tension. But fair warning none the less, this is a sex in prison story.

Marine Captain Smoker was not happy. He stalked through the hallways of the Marine base, the furrow that cut his brow deeper even than usual. Without a word, he ground out his two cigars on the too-white walls, and deposited the stubbed remains into the surprised hands of a wide-eyed private. The boy squeaked and snapped his heels together, dipping his head in a quick bow as Smoker brushed by, already pulling another pair of cigars from his jacket as he turned another corner. 

The report had come in over the snail phone just yesterday, that a Marine ship had captured a particular wanted pirate very near Smoker's own location. The captain ground the cigars between angry teeth, biting off the ends and spitting them away. How had the idiot managed to be careless enough to let himself get caught? 

When the next turn he made still had yet to reveal his intended destination, Smoker grabbed up the scarf of the next private unfortunate to cross his path. "Where's your goddamned brig?"

The young Marine, too skinny and lanky to be of any use but mopping the floors of a base with too many guns positively trembled in the man's grip, toes barely touching the floor. "Th-th-that way, sir," he managed to squeak with a feeble pointing finger. "Two halls down and to the right..."

Smoker eyed the boy critically, grinding the cigars so tightly between his teeth that a shower of paper and tobacco fell from his mouth. "If you're wrong, you better be able to run faster than you mop, boy." But he set the private back on his feet and stomped off in the direction he'd indicated. If that damned pirate had fallen asleep in his lunch again... If Smoker had been cheated out of catching the only pirate who'd ever eluded him (besides that all-hells-be-damned younger brother) by some no-name Marines who'd only -happened- to be -eating- at the same damned restaurant as that freckled demon.... the ruined cigars fell from his mouth and Smoker didn't bother replacing them. Two halls down...

The officers guarding the brig were a pair of terribly bored looking privates who were playing cards in the front entry. The one facing the doorway glanced up as Smoker entered and his cards immediately fluttered out of his hands as he scrambled to his feet, a stiff salute snapping his back rigid. With a glance over his shoulder, the second young man mimicked him with a startled yelp of "Smoker-taisa!" on his lips.

"We weren't told you were -- visiting --"

Smoker harsh glare was anything but interested in the two men who saluted awkwardly among the scattered playing cards. He reached over his shoulder and pulled the jitte free of its loop, swinging it over his head and setting it down on the desk with enough force to make everything in the room (the two boys included) shake. "I'm here to see a prisoner," he growled. 

"Yes sir!" one of the privates cried, scrambling for the keys on his hip. The other private shrank back as his partner timidly led the captain through the heavy door of the brig to a new corridor of heavy steel doors with barred windows. 

Smoker cast the boy a stony look as he stepped past and into the corridor. "Now. I'd suggest you go back out to the front, and make sure this door stays very firmly locked. Private."

The young man blanched visibly as Smoker's gaze bore into him, a darting glance cast between the heavy door and the captain. "Si..." he trailed off, clearly torn between normal protocol that would warrant him to stand guard during the taisa's visit. "Yessir!" he said quickly when Smoker's brow twitched and with a quick salute, he skidded a turn on his heels and hurried back down the hall, sweating bullets.

When the door was firmly shut behind him and the bumbling private out of sight, Smoker's brow unknit a bit. Not much, but it was, he admitted, one less annoyance. Of course, the biggest annoyance was waiting just down the hallway. Most of the cells were empty as he passed. Only one or two held captives or seemed to have even been occupied recently. Not in the first row... Smoker turned a corner and made his way past the empty cells. All the way at the end... the very back, as though these idiots thought that would make a shit's worth of difference were the pirate to somehow slip his bonds. 

He stopped outside of the door, not bothering to look in the tiny barred opening, frowning at the grimy stones that squished unnaturally beneath the tread of his boots. 

"Aa?" an interested voice emerged from behind the heavy door. The soft rattle of chains on stone echoed softly and hollowly in the dark cell. "Dinner time?" Ace's voice drawled hopefully.

Smoker gave a gravely snort as his broad shoulders thumped back against the door, blocking what little light the window must cast into the cell. "Last thing I'd be bringing you is food. Portgas." He spoke the name like a curse. A quiet curse, but still spoken as though the name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He pulled free a single cigar and put it to his lips.

From within his stony crypt, Ace blinked with surprise even as the dim light thinned further. Lounging in one corner of the stone box that served as his prison, the seastone chains on his ankles and wrists rattled softly as he looked up at the silhouetted figure that blocked the window. Silently he cursed the stone that prevented him from tossing a spark at the rolled tobacco that was placed at the silhouette's lips. "Smoker-taisa?" he said, incredulous but amused. His voice smirked at the back of Smoker's head. "What an unexpected visitor I have. Are you here to take me away? Or just couldn't stay away once you heard the news. What's that saying about the moth?"

Smoker ignored the pirate's taunting, patting his jacket for a book of matches, silent as he found and struck a light, holding the tiny flame up to his cigar, breathing in deeply the spiced smoke, taking his time to answer, waiting for the flavor to settle his nerves. "You. Let them catch you. Why?" 

"Yes, just with the hope that you would show up," Ace replied with little enthusiasm. "Actually, I didn't." A sigh. "Granted, the timing was poor. And sadly, even I can't melt iron."

"Bullshit!" Smoker barked, slamming the door with a flat palm, still refusing to turn around. "There isn't a Marine who could catch you that damned easily! Since when has -any- metal been able to hold a flame?"

"Not just *any* metal," Ace agreed, voice still a disinterested drawl. "That Hina of yours is an interesting woman. Of course, she never wold have been able to pull it off if I hadn't been asleep. Clever -- she knew I'd be able to escape any bars or cracks. I imagine it took a lot out of her to make an iron *tomb*." There was only the vaguest trace of annoyance in his voice. But any pirate, particularly Ace, had to appreciate to some extent taking advantage of a convenient situation.

The man outside Ace's cell fell deathly quiet, even the grinding of teeth against paper ceased. Then he spoke, quiet, low, only the barest trace of a rumble in the question. "...Hina?"

"Interesting woman," Ace mused again. "Almost as much of a hardass as you. But much prettier."

Without turning around (and even Smoker wondered at this bit of self-control) Smoker reached back behind him with one hand, viper-like cord of smoke snapping and twisting though the bars and across the cell, seeking and finding Ace's throat like a missile. It was strange as white fingers of smoke curled around the far too solid skin of the boy-pirate's neck, slipping and snaking across the smooth beads of his necklace, pushing against the bobbing flesh of Ace's throat. "I should kill you myself. Letting that woman get a hold of you." 

A quiet sound of surprise escaped the prisoners lips, chains rattling as he instinctively reached for the roiling snake that circled his neck and pressed him against the cold stone wall. His senses reeled strangely when his hands swiped futily at swirling smoke -- smoke that he couldn't even twist himself into, that strangled and dodged wherever it pleased. There were few things as infuriating as seastone, as being deprived his own nature, trapped in a form that had long become unfamiliar to him in all its limitation. It had been some time since he'd had to gasp for breath, since something so solid could press so tightly at his flesh. But even under Smoker's wickedness, he only choked softly, managed to rasp out, "Jealous?"

This time the smoke crept up his throat, over his chin, seeping into his mouth at the corners until it covered the whole lower portion of Ace's face, effectively blocking his airways. And Smoker's voice filtered into the room, a near whisper, yet the anger behind it was tangible. "-If- you're lucky, Portgas, Hina -might- not kill you tomorrow, and you -might- live to enjoy my next visit." And with a flick of what might have been his wrist, Smoker snapped the pirate's head backwards against the slime of the stones behind him. 

Even as pain snapped in the back of his head, Ace gasped in blessed, stale air. Breathing deeply, he licked his lips and the dry, smoky flavor that now stained his tongue and mouth. "I'll be waiting," he panted, only with the slightest tint of sarcasm, "with bated breath."

Smoker answered with only the barest grunt as his arm pulled back, billowy white solidifying once again into flesh and bone. Then the Marine captain's silhouette left the window and the light of the hallway once again seeped into the room as heavy footfalls receded from the captive's door. 

* * *

It was later in the evening on that same day, that Smoker invited himself on board the female Marine Captain's ship, ignoring the stares and the stammered protests of some of her newer crew. Slipping below deck, past a couple of guards, was simple enough, and within a few brief steps he stood in front of the door to the woman's office. Half a breath later he'd entered and frowned to find the room empty. He was about to leave when he noticed the note pinned to the back of her sleek, black officer's chair. "Smoker-kun," it began. "You have something to discuss with Hina, yes? If you would find your way to my quarters, Hina will be waiting." 

With a puff of smoke and a sneer, Smoker whirled out of the office. It took only a minute and a bit of encouragement to get the next of Hina's underlings to point the way to the woman's quarters, and when he was shown the door, Smoker wasted no time pushing the door open.

"You really have no manners, Smoker-kun," came the woman's voice, her icy eyes glaring at him in the reflection of her vanity mirror. Hina's long coat was hung beside the door, her fine leather gloves on the vanity as she touched up her make up. She placed down the tube of lipstick in hand before turning the chair around to fix her fellow captain with an admonishing look. "Hina could have been indecent. Hina offended."

"Really," Smoker didn't sound convinced. He stepped into the room, letting the door close behind him and cross his arms forcefully over his broad chest. "Sounds like you've been expecting me. Didn't figure you'd be 'indecent' unless it was part of your plan."

"Hina doesn't know what it means that you'd walk willingly into that possibility," the woman mused. She stood and crossed the room to where a silver tray waited on the rich oak of her desk. "Tea, Smoker-kun? Still taking no sugar?"

"You don't intimidate me, woman. Indecent or otherwise," Smoker snapped back. "Yes. No sugar. Thank you." He nodded tightly, brow still furrowed as he accepted the offered tea-cup and saucer. 

"Please, sit," Hina said, waving to the chair at the desk while she herself swept to the edge of the bed in a swirl of graceful blond. "Hina is always glad to see you. Heaven forbid you ever visit to see *Hina* though." She lifted her slender brows as she tilted her tea cup to her lips.

Smoker took the offered seat, but frowned as he took a sip of the tea --a good flavor-- and set the cup back into it's saucer. "Look here, you may be content to sail around the Grandline as though it were some sort of sightseeing cruise, but some of us keep rather busy doing things like working." 

Hina drew the porcelain away from her lips, gold rim stained with fresh crimson. "Hina *is* working," she pointed out, icy eyes leveling at Smoker as she crossed her legs. "A prisoner was delivered. Do you have an... errand here, Smoker-kun?"

Smoker set the teacup down on the polished wood of Hina's vanity and leaned back in the chair, pulling up one leg to rest on his opposite knee. "I was notified via snail phone that a wanted pirate had been captured. I only found out this afternoon that it was your doing. Must have been easy, arresting a sleeping man."

The woman's gaze sharpened slightly, not taking kindly to the jab. "Hina took an opportunity," she said coolly. "A wanted pirate is a wanted pirate -- especially one with that kind of price on his head. You would have done the same thing. Wouldn't you, Smoker-kun." She let the words hang as she took another sip of tea before she continued, voice slipping quite casual again, "Hina interrogates tomorrow."

"He won't tell you anything," Smoker replied, deciding perhaps that he would, after all, finish that tea. "The little brat's despicably loyal to his captain."

"Hina is not very good at interrogation," the woman mused thoughtfully, thick lashes lowered as she watched her swirling tea. A long pause. "You know his habits much better, Smoker-kun," she added, looking at him with a significant gaze.

That... was too easy, the Marine captain decided, and cast a suspicious look at the woman over the rim of his teacup. Another sip while he tried to think of how to respond. "That pirate's as much a mystery to me as to you," he finally grunted, not quite willing to admit that she'd suggested exactly what he'd planned to talk her into.

Hina's manicured nails only tapped lightly at the side of her teacup, looking at him over the rim expressionlessly.

-This-, Smoker thought irritably, was exactly why he disliked the general company of women. You could never tell exactly what was going on in their heads, but you could always bet it was something devious. At least with Tashigi, he could order his lieutenant to spit-it-out-for-christs-sake. With Hina, nothing was ever that easy. He lifted the cup to his lips to find that it was already empty. After another silence-filled breath, Smoker suddenly slapped his free hand down on the desk, sending the captain's lipstick hopping and falling to the floor. "Well, dammit, go ahead and interrogate the brat. Why the hell should I give a damn about it?" 

Hina's icy blue eyes glanced down at the silver tube that bounced across the carpeted floor before rolling to rest. She looked back at Smoker, calmly setting her cup and saucer down on the desk. "Actually," she began, "Hina was hoping to ask you a favor." Her words, her voice were so perfectly innocent but there was something in her eyes that Smoker could almost feel her perfect knowledge. That piercing blue told him it wasn't she that was asking for the favor with these words. "It will look better for Hina if information can be extracted from him. You are more qualified."

Smoker's palm twitched and his fingers folded into a fist almost unconsciously. She knew, his instincts told him. She knew... but what? What did she know? There was -nothing- to know. Nothing to know, he told himself. The brat had harassed Smoker's crew once or twice, slipped into the Marine captain's quarters unannounced and caught him off guard... but that was all. Never more than a passing wink and the shuffling around of the man's important paperwork. So what could the woman possibly know. "Why," he began, "should I... do you this favor?"

"Hina will owe you," she said simply, that meaningful gaze still boring into him.

He knew, he just -knew- that the other captain would not leave it at that. The woman was far too devious to let the issue rest there. But what could he say? Too many objections would surely only incriminate him further in that mind of hers already full of who knew what sort of disgusting, evil, female sorts of ideas. "I'll consider your request," he finally acquiesced. "Perhaps... if you have no luck with the pirate yourself." 

"Hina will consult you about it tomorrow," she said with a faint nod, standing to retrieve her lipstick. "Would you like to join my crew for dinner tonight, Smoker-kun?" she asked.

Smoker gave a brief shake of his head. "My first lieutenant officially requested the opportunity to oversee the meal tonight and I agreed to allow it." Too late he caught himself, frowning as he wondered why exactly he felt the need to explain himself to Hina.

Hina smiled that strange sort of smile she had, pulling on her gloves. "Maybe tomorrow," she said amicably. "Hina will be curious."

Smoker just grunted, the nearest he'd get to voiced agreement as he rose to his feet and turned toward the door.

"Rest well, Smoker-kun," Hina called over her shoulder, that smile still tugging at her painted lips as the door creaked shut.

* * *

Smoker spent an uncomfortable morning on the deck of his own ship, sipping the tea that reminded him of his visit to Hina the night before and reading the newspaper that only made the knots in his spine tighter as he read of the latest exploits of a certain group of strawhat pirates. Finally, he lurched to his feet, paper tumbling from his lap, and pulling on his jacket, headed for the base and the brig. If Hina wasn't done yet, well, then... he'd... wait until she was. 

Fortunately, to his inquiries as to recent visitors, the skittish Marine replied in a voice that betrayed his fear of the blonde Marine captain that Hina has already come and gone some time ago and that she'd instructed them to let Smoker in should he happen to drop by. As though she though he needed anyone's permission (least of all hers!) to see the prisoner.

"Will you need anything, sir?" the guard on duty asked timidly. It seemed Hina had made it clear that Smoker intended to carry on her work.

"Just do what you did before, Private. Lock this door behind me."

Before the boy had a chance to squeak even a 'yessir!' Smoker was striding through the corridors, to the end of the last hall where he knew Ace's cell was. This time instead of standing outside, he dematerialized completely, slipping through the barred opening in the door. Even as he regained his form, and his boots thumped against the stones, wisps of smoke still clung to his hair and flickered across his jaw line.

The boy who occupied the cell was somewhat disheveled -- his hair was an even wilder mess than usual, he'd been stripped down to his boots and shorts and his eyes were showing signs of fatigue. It was this lazy gaze that peered up at Smoker over his freckles from his slumped position against the wall, ankles and wrists shackled in unforgiving seastone. A grin slivered Ace's lips. "I knew you'd come."

This clearly hadn't been quite the ready sarcasm Smoker had been expecting as he didn't answer the boy's greeting right away, merely stood, looking down at the pirate whose skin seemed such an unnatural grey, whose eyes seemed even more weighed down than usual. Smoker spared a moment to wonder if the boy ever slept anywhere besides a plate of food. "Hina asked me to," he grumbled, uncomfortable.

"That was kind of her," Ace said, offering a tidbit of that sarcasm. He sighed loudly and arched his neck and back, stretching. "Saaaah~ She wore me out." He slumped further back against the wall, looking particularly worn.

Smoker took a step back to lean against the cell door, this time not blocking the opening, but watching Ace, following the curves of spine and neck as he shifted, chain rattling as they scraped against the floor. He raised a brow at the words. "Just listening to her speak often has that affect on people," he offered, half under his breath.

"Mmm..." He sighed again. "She almost got it out of me." A weak smile. "Terrible tactics, that woman has..."

"Bullshit," Smoker scowled. "Bullshit she almost got -anything- out of you." 

"I'm serious," Ace whined defensively, like a scolded child. "Women shouldn't be allowed in the Marines. They have no morals."

Smoker was growing more and more uncomfortable with this conversation, and he'd be damned if he'd ask outright what sort of 'tactics' the woman-terror used. "Loathe as I am to disagree with that assessment, Portgas, I cannot possibly believe that anything that woman can do would make you give up the location of your captain. That is, after all, why she asked my help."

"A...ah," Ace said, somewhat hesitantly, examining the opposite corner carefully. "Right, my captain. Of course."

This time Smoker pushed away from the door, took a few bold steps toward the boy and stared down at his slumped form for just a moment before squatting and snapping out a hand to grasp at the back of Ace's hair, turning his head to face him. "What does that woman think she knows, Portgas?"

Ace winced, a pouty, put off kind of wince and scowled up at the Marine. "I said she *almost* got it out of me! Why else would she send you?"

Smoker turned his eyes to the ceiling then, sharp gaze darting around the edges of the room. "Wouldn't put it past her to bug the room somehow... always watching when you least expect it... something that woman would do..." he was muttering now, almost to himself, but he hadn't yet let go of Ace's chin.

Ace just blinked up at him, a brow arching slightly. "You two have a strange relationship," he stated, somewhat puzzled.

Smoker blinked and glanced back at the boy in his grip, then let a deep frown tug at his mouth. "You didn't tell her anything?"

"There's nothing to *tell*!" Ace said, rather exasperated. He sighed again, leaning limply into Smoker's hand, letting is support him. He paused and then smiled again, a sly smile shot right up at the Marine's deeply lined face. "...is there?"

Smoker's expression didn't change, but he drew his hand back very slowly, gloved fingers grazing across Ace's jaw, eventually slipping free from that ashy skin. "...is there?" he repeated, but the sound of his own voice seemed to snap him out of the momentary trance and he blinked and furrowed his brow, tight again. "No. No, of course not. Nothing she'd be remotely interesting in learning. Nothing for her to get her prying, female fingers into. At all," he agreed.

Ace sighed again, falling back against the wall and following Smoker with his tired eyes. "Is *that* what you came here to interrogate me about?" he asked blandly. "You Marines..."

This was, apparently, the wrong moment to say much of anything however, as Smoker's hand shot out to reclaim the pirate's jaw, broad thumb pressing tight into the dip beneath his chin. "I came here to find out about Whitebeard," he corrected. "And your bratty kid brother."

For a moment, Ace was startled, eyes going wide as he was pressed tightly back against the wall, cold and scraping on his bare back. But then he grinned, a wicked, confident sort of grin. This he preferred to silly games of gossip and guessing. This he could conjure a new spark up for. This was a much better game.

"You think if that wicked woman couldn't get it out of me, you will?" Ace challenged, the glint starting to reappear in his eyes.

Smoker almost let the smirk touch his mouth as he bit the glove from off his other hand, letting worn callous scrape into the soft flesh at the dip of Ace's throat. "I think Hina was right about one thing. I -am- better at interrogation." His other glove shortly joined the first and both bare hands now found place upon Ace's neck, not squeezing the breath from him, but threatening the possibility with ever faint stroke of rough fingerpads.

Ace's throat bobbed against Smoker's hands -- bare on his skin -- as he swallowed hard. Something he imagined may have been similar to panic threatened to creep in the corners of his bloodstream. It was unnerving, a grip he couldn't escape, a *tightness*... something that was never normally anything at all to Ace. Strange and different and plain and tangible. He'd been twined with Smoker, inside and out of him, wrapped up in him, but always intangible. Always smoke versus fire. This was the most he'd ever got the Marine's *hands* on him.

"I never took you as the type to be cocky, taisa," Ace said in reply, carefully measuring his breath. The color was returning to his face.

This time, the smirk made it to Smoker's mouth as the fingers of one hand gave the boy's cheek a condescending pat. "Unpredictability of action helps to keep one's prisoner guessing, never quite comfortable enough to know what's coming next."

Ace lifted a brow at the other man, arching his neck just slightly. Pressing just a little bit into that grip. "Isn't that the wrong thing to tell me?" he inquired, just a little raspy with the pressure. "Or is that supposed to keep me guessing too?"

"I guess I'll have to let you figure that out yourself, Portgas," the Marine answered. He was in the very strange process of surprising even himself with the enjoyment he was taking at the reversal of roles in this cell. Every other time the pirate blazed onto his ship, thrusting his uncatchable nose into the Marine's life, Ace always seemed to have the upper hand. He taunted, teased, and ran away. Not this time. "It's strange isn't it, Portgas. To feel like any other man." His bare fingers left Ace's throat to trace a path over the man's collar and down the center of his breast, where the heavy skull ornament usually hung. "I can't feel an ounce of heat from you that any normal man wouldn't have."

"Is that how you'd prefer me?" Ace inquired, narrowing his eyes just a bit. His heart was betraying him by pounding hard against Smoker's hand but he refused to let his face do the same. That remained cool, in control. "Like any other man? I suppose it would make your job easier, wouldn't it? But not nearly as fun."

"Unfortunately, the chase is over, Portgas. Hina saw to that. Fun or no fun... not much of an issue any more is it." But his hand didn't quite yet move from Ace's pounding heart. It was so out of place. That sound, that sensation, a pulsing organ hammering under his touch beneath solid bone and skin that didn't give. It was like touching someone else. Like it wasn't the same damned pirate he'd chased for months. 

"You're angry with her, aren't you?" Ace ventured, perhaps a bit more quietly. Smoker's hand was warm, much warmer than his own ashen skin. In the strangest way, it felt good. In the strangest way, he didn't want it to stop. "You wanted to be the one."

Smoker frowned, his fingers tightening on Ace's skin for a moment, then falling lax. "She took you while you were asleep in your damned food," Smoker growled. "What sort of victory is that? She didn't catch you. She did nothing worthy of acknowledgement." And yes. Goddammit. It drove him to-the-bone crazy that Hina was responsible for Ace's imprisonment. It maddened him that she'd pre-emptively ended -his- goddamned chase without a second thought, with hardly an effort, with such a sneaky, underhanded sort of move. 

"You could let me go." Aces voice was a quiet purr, barely even audible. No hope in his voice, no desperation on his face. His features relaxed, catching Smoker's eyes. More seduction than begging. "You could make me yours again."

Smoker smiled now. A twisted, private sort of smile, but he shook his head, a small, slight motion. "You're smart, Portgas. Very clever, and manipulative, and entirely too charismatic for your own damned good. But you still got caught. Let yourself get snatched up while you snored into your stew. I can't let you go. No, you haven't yet learned what being caught means." And once more, his fingers tightened on Ace's skin, lick of smoke wafting, curling from the back of his hands, flickering across the boy's chest and neck, warning, promising, stroking, light as a breath, his throat, his jaw, sifting into the lank black hair, creeping over his lips. 

That light smoke tickling him, the Smoker that he was familiar with delicate and dancing across his skin made him shiver, made his spine stiffen. He swallowed hard again, his lips quivering at the sensation. Smoker felt so strange, so different with his ethereal form on frozen skin. Not quite solid but not quite a breeze. The smell was familiar, as familiar as his own. One with his own. "I suppose..." he breathed, his words pulling that sensation and smell across his tongue, transferring it to taste. "You're going to show me..."

"You might not soon get another chance to be reminded how it feels to be human," Smoker agreed, letting smoky tendrils drift in and back out of Ace's mouth, drawing the flavor of the boy's mouth with it and somehow Smoker could taste it though it wasn't on his own tongue. 

Ace was left slightly breathless. Smoker would drive him mad. He craved that taste again already, wanted to breathe it in, let it swirl through him like the finest cigar. At the same time, a part of him made him hold his breath between swirls of smoke, only able to imagine what Smoker could do to him, to his far too solid innards and tissues with that sort of access. He still couldn't completely read the Marine's intentions -- he could only let his hopes and imagination get carried away with him. "Still all tangled up in me," Ace breathed, licked his dry lips, "even when I'm just 'ordinary'..."

Smoker growled, a trickle of smoke seeping from his mouth, but he didn't deny Ace's words. "Got it's own possibilities," he pointed out. Already, his smoke was drifting across the floor, careful to avoid the seastone shackles, and crawling up Ace's legs, over his knees, under the edge of his shorts, fearless as it snaked up and out his waistband to join the swirls that were all that was left of Smoker's hands. "Is it very different?" he asked. "When it touches you now? This is still an interrogation," he reminded the boy. "I'm still asking the questions."

Ace's breath hitched, his eyes widened -- it made his skin crawl and shiver at the same time. It made every hair stand on end, made him simultaneously want to cringe away from the sensation and let himself be smothered in those smoky tendrils. Curling up his thighs and over his nether regions, it made his stomach twist and jump, made his muscles twitch. "Yes," he managed. It was harder and harder to keep the veneer of cool and confident. "It... it's strange." He couldn't help it, he squirmed slightly in the Marine's grip, just a little shift. The seastone weighed heavily on his wrists and ankles, fighting with what little energy was left in him, that was starting to gather in various places, for instance his cheeks which began to warm.

"Can you feel it at all?" Smoker wondered, his own breath coming heavily as though smoke filled his own lungs, "Your heat? It is completely smothered? Tell me what it's like," he ordered, coils of white still twisting across Ace's thighs and stomach. Ace's discomfort was nearly tangible, his short breaths and tiny motions, Smoker could feel them all, splayed out across Ace's skin as he was. 

"It..." Ace paused, swallowed, tried again. Speaking was becoming more and more difficult. "It's still there, just tiny, in the middle... I can feel it, just not reach it... too tired inside... nn..." He bit his tongue at the tiny sound. "It's... frustrating..." That stroking, undulating of smoke drove him to distraction as it swirled all across his skin, so casually touching him simply everywhere, working its way into his very pores. Smoker's scent filled his senses now, washed his tongue, caressed the back of his throat. 

"Mm," Smoker nodded. "Do you want very much to be able to reach it?" He whispered as he moved around to slip between Ace and the wall, the boy's body bumping against his chest as he half-materialized again. Better this way, he didn't have to worry about touching the seastone, and he could more easily reach Ace's ear to let warm tendrils of air breath across that skin, already a little pinker than before Smoker noted.

Ace stiffened slightly, unable to conceal his surprise as he was suddenly cushioned by Smoker's warmth, rather than the stone wall. "Do I.." he repeated, new gooseflesh shivering across his skin, a heavy shudder stealing down his back. It was a horrible question. If he had his power, he wouldn't still be there. Would have an escape from the agonizing, crawling, stroking, tickling touch that made him shake and squirm inside in all its inescapable power. No answer would come to his lips.

Smoker's power did what two human hands could not, touched Ace everywhere at once, fingers of smoke thread through his sweat-damp hair, down his front, blanketing his bare chest, soaking through and under the fabric of his shorts, a cruel teasing touch that never quite stopped shifting long enough to be firm as it crept down his legs and back up again. Even the part of Smoker's body that Ace rested against wouldn't stay still, gave the sensation of not quite touching anything, but being touched all at once. "This, Portgas D. Ace," a voice whispered smoke into his ear, "is what it means to be caught." 

It was useless now, his body was starting to form its own reactions in spite of his most valiant efforts. This wasn't how it was supposed to go -- he was supposed to be the one in control, crawling across Smoker's desk or curling up his leg, a flame to wrap around his waist. Making *him* squirm with stoic discomfort always just before it was time to flicker away with a promise of return. Not this... this blanket of sensation wrapping tighter around him, this complete helplessness. Smoker all around him, in him -- not tangled *with* him, but *taking* him, smothering him. 

In spite of his withered energy, his snuffed flame, heat washed down his chest, gathered in his stomach and groin. Not any ethereal heat, only the most base and carnal of warmth that coerced his blood into flowing faster, that made his heart pound in his ears. A quiet moan escaped from his lips and he bit the inside of his mouth -- was it Smoker's wispy grip growing tighter or only his shorts? 

He wouldn't be completely beat though. He wouldn't let the Marine think this was the end. He was chained and bound now but he was never defeated. "Better enjoy it..." he murmured breathily, "while you still can...." There was perhaps not as much challenge in the boy's voice as he might have hoped to muster. And perhaps too much hope.

Smoker laughed, a quiet, raspy sound, as though he didn't quite know how to make such a sound. "I intend to," he whispered, impossibly quiet, impossible for Ace not to hear as the words flowed past his ear on a wisp of smoke. He already knew he would find a way to secure the pirate's release. But for now, this time, -he- was taking the control he deserved, that his station, his role, demanded. "Portgas," he spoke again. "Tell me why you visit my ship." The interrogation would continue. It -was- his job afterall.

Ace laughed his own laugh then, short and breathy. It took some effort to muster a ghost of his usual cocky grin, even as his cheeks burned in that strange way caused by hot blood rather than fire. "Because you like it," he replied. A faint gasp interrupted his strained confidence, sucking Smoker sharply into his throat and for a moment he thought he would choke. But it was only *sensation* not pain that scraped along his throat, into his lungs. And finding he didn't have to filter his breath in spite of the smoke and the smell that filled his mouth and nose, he panted softly.

The clasp on Ace's belt loosened, the button popped, a swirl of smoke breathed through the heavy fabric. "Don't mock me, Portgas," Smoker's voice was the nearest to a purr the man could make. "You don't show up on my ship, harass my crew and leave just as fast all because you think I like it. Bullshit." His smoky grip reached farther, spilling like liquid down Ace's stomach and under his waistband, down his thighs.

Ace's stomach clenched, his throat tightened against the swirling that flooded along his skin, strange not-quite grip driving him mad as his cock, with ideas of its own, swelled within that swirling touch. He was burning or aching to burn -- he wanted something tangible, wanted flesh on his, hands to grip him. He wanted to flicker into that softness, to roil that smoke until sparks and electricity were rubbed to life within them. He was drowning more than the sea could ever steal his breath. "Because I won't let you forget," he managed. "That I'm still here."

"Idiot," Smoker snapped, his fingers forgetting for the briefest moment to stay as smoke, the barest touch of flesh on flesh, but no. Not that. He couldn't quite allow himself that. No matter what the boy was saying. "Can't just forget someone as annoying as you," he growled. 

A soft laugh rattled in Ace's throat, his head tilting back into the swirls that Smoker's voice came from, where he was the most solid. Leaning back into that cushion, letting smoke roil up his neck, clinging to his hair. "Don't you wish?" he taunted weakly. His hips wanted to tilt, wanted to press into *something* -- the tiny brush only teased him more, made his cock jump against his half-open shorts. "Maybe if you were... better at catching me... I wouldn't have to visit you so often..."

Smoke nudged at the boy's firming cock, slipping, pushing under the foreskin, sliding across the pinkened slit, drawing Ace's flesh further into the open, so both could see it, see how Smoker was affecting him. "If you keep letting devilish women take advantage of you, there will be neither visits -nor- catchings," he pointed out. 

A sharp groan escaped between Ace's lips, that touch shooting straight through his center. He wasn't sure if he hated or adored Smoker more for this -- for finally giving in to every slinky smile and quick flickering touch. Even on his own terms, under convenient pretense, giving in to the sparks forced between them. It was never spoken, never had to be. The eternal chase and taunt was enough, drawn back, pulling him closer only to run away again. Chase me, find me. Perhaps it was only an unexpected curse of their form. Smoke follows fire. 

"It was a fluke," Ace groaned, finding the strength to arch his back, chains shifting quietly. "Don't think it'll be so easy for you..."

"I never wanted it to be easy, Portgas. Surely you understand that much." His touch flickered again, smoke to flesh and back to smoke again, teasing. A firm column of smoke pressed against Ace from behind, wisping slivers twisting upward from tailbone to the base of his skull. "Teaching you that now." Flesh, smoke, flesh on flesh.

A quiet curse was on Ace's lips, throbbing, senses confused and overwhelmed by those fleeting touches, trying to anticipate the next, his skin somehow searching for it. "If this..." he began, struggling with his voice. Breathing in deep lungfuls of Smoker -- he didn't care anymore. He wanted, needed to be filled with it. He never was able to resist this allure, some part of him always wanting or even needing this. For Smoker to be a part of him, to feed his fire. He gave in, wispy smoke blown between his lips when he spoke, a quiet laugh in the back of his throat, "If this is how you teach... I'm not sure I ever want to learn my lesson..."

"I could leave right now," Smoker offered, a smirk in his whisper, his fingers withdrawing from Ace's cock, beginning to dissipate into the stale air of the cell.

For the first time, Ace coughed, his shoulders finding the strength the wrench, twisting his head back toward the form that cushioned him. "You bastard!" he groaned sharply. "I... I'll spite you by *not* escaping...!" Strain weakened his already poor attempt at a threat. "And Hina will be famed for catching the uncatchable...!"

Smoker's hands solidified again, for a moment, accompanied by a faint laugh. "Guess I wouldn't like that much," Smoker admitted, as smoky tendrils began very gently to probe, push at the sensitive and terribly human flesh still hidden by the sweat-damp fabric of Ace's shorts. He was almost surprised at how warm the boy was growing, without any sort of help from that unreachable inner fire. "Hina will be angry if you escape."

"Luckily *I* don't have to deal with her," Ace smarmed, torn between relaxing again and twisting further, searching for something. He craned his neck back, smoke stinging his eyes, into what he thought might be Smoker's neck. He breathed deeply, a drag of spicy, burning smoke. Summoning his last reserves of concentration, he exhaled in a puffed ring that promptly was lost into the roil and he smirked, self-satisfied.

Smoker's half-formed torso sunk inward just a bit, enough to mold himself to fit the boy, his smoke continuing to explore, press deeper into sensitive places. "You'll owe me," he agreed, watching in half-amusement at the fading ring that left Ace's mouth. Even as flesh and blood, the boy could still manage to manipulate the Marine. 

"Oh, don't worry..." Ace groaned softly. Smoker's body pillowing him, that strange, soft, almost intangible but still somehow warm form supporting his aching muscles was such a welcome sensation, he couldn't help but sigh deeply, breathing in and out what might have been Smoker's ear. "I'll pay you back..." He didn't quell the roll of his hips now with each tiny brush of skin on skin that he was allowed. He knew Smoker wanted this as much as him -- wanted Ace's fire to fuel his billows. He wouldn't leave. So he moaned deeply, giving Smoker the control he craved, if only for the moment. A sound that begged for his touch as much as Ace's gasping breaths begged forth his smoke. 

So Smoker rewarded him. Little bits at a time, playing both bad and good cop. His smoke could twist deeply into Ace's body, but when his fingers became flesh again, the touch drew back, shallow, but stretching him wider. Flesh, smoke, flesh, smoke... "I'll catch you again," Smoker answered, an equal promise. 

"Ah..." Ace squeezed his eyes shut, smoke-stung tears spilling over his hot, freckled cheeks. His knees spread as best they could with his ankles shackled together. Desperate breaths forced deep gusts, so thick in his throat, in his lungs that he thought surely he would suffocate but it only came more, deeper, filling everything it could reach. He knew nothing like this, deep reaching touches without escape, making him Smoker's quarry yet again, forcing into him, deeper. No resistance, no flesh that flickered to life unwarranted. No sparks that warned of his loss of control. "Fuck..." he gasped. A sharp toss of raven hair, head thrown back swirled the smoke. "More...!"

The next time Smoker's touch solidified, the girth that filled Ace was significantly greater than one or two fingers, but still it shifted, never staying in one form for long. Fingers of smoke stroked the dry surface of Ace's tongue, threatening to gag the boy, but always stopping just short of choking him. "You'll learn your lesson," Smoker breathed, "But don't think it's the only one I've got to teach."

Ace cried out sharply, only to find his voice muffled by the not-quite-smoke that filled his mouth, just solid enough to press against his tongue, to hold back his voice. Desperation arched his spine, ran ashy rivulets of sweat down his face and chest. Never had he felt so trapped, not in any chains or behind any bars or even in Hina's iron encasement. But in his own body, by his own flesh, in Smoker's grasp, the other man blanketing and filling and trapping him completely. He tried to bite down but his jaws were held apart in a silent cry, his weak fingers reaching, stretching futily, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. The seastone couldn't control what roiled inside of him, a heat that he was sure would have to burst free into flame but was always just held back, confusing his trained body, holding back the climax that was just out of reach, torturing him, making him desperate only for more, for Smoker to roil only deeper, harder into him.

"Yes, boy," Smoker rasped, giving Ace everything his body begged for except the freedom of his fire. "Is this new to you?" he wondered aloud. "You must have been young when you ate the fruit..." The idea of forcing a new sensation upon the body pleased Smoker. Deep down, in places he would never otherwise admit to realizing, he enjoyed the possibility that the fiery pirate might never have felt so entirely, so vulnerably human before now. Then, for just a moment, Smoker let himself become the same, drew back his smoke, let flesh touch flesh at every point of contact, flesh and nail and tooth digging deep into Ace's skin, and muffled but audible, "You'll let me catch you." A shuddering breath, and the closest Smoker would get to an admission of equal pleasure, "and I'll let you escape." 

A gasp, a cry muffled by a solid palm now -- it was almost too much and too little at once, all the solid flesh, all the grip and friction his body ached for but he was left empty, stale air replacing the smoke that his true form demanded, that he was practically addicted to. He choked on the air, thought for a moment that he might scream with the way it made him reel. But then callussed hands were gripping him, teeth marking his skin, sweat smeared on his back, breath in his ears, scratching stubble on his neck. His feet scrabbled at the dirty floor for purchase, his hips suddenly thrusting *hard* up into Smoker's grip, back, neck arched, strained, fists digging nails into his palms as his vision went white behind his eyelids and his climax was rushing through him harder than any firestorm, flames trapped beneath his skin that consumed him completely, that *did* make him scream against Smoker's hand, made him twist and writhe and thrash with a strength that the seastone should have quelled as he spilled hard over Smoker's hand and his own ash-stained chest. And maybe it was the Marine's imagination but he could swear that sparks stung his palm with the boy's cries.

Smoker breathed, smiled almost as he drew the boy's climax from him, coaxed him through it, his own solid body tightening with the pleasure of power exerted and claimed. When Ace's shuddering had stilled by a fraction, Smoker's dripping hand found the pirate's mouth, wiping his fingers clean on Ace's tongue, lips, cheek. Then he shifted back to smoke, slipping from behind the exhausted boy, but not letting him fall, easing him, almost gently, letting his shivering shoulders bump against the wall again as he stood away. The light from the opening in the door dimmed for just a moment, as Smoker turned back to give the pirate one last glance. "Don't let anyone else catch you again." 

And then he was gone.

* * *

"Smoker-taisa!" Something skidded past Smoker as he made his way through the twisting hallways of the base, on his way back to his ship. Tashigi crashed to the ground and slid down the polished floor several feet before she scrambled for her glasses and looked over her shoulder at her captain's back. "Ah --" she squeaked, hauling herself back onto her feet and situating her glasses on her nose. "Hina-taisa is looking for you, sir!"

Smoker tensed, red-faced as his footsteps halted. He didn't dare turn around, only hoping that in all her clumsy haste, Tashigi had failed to notice the only-too-obvious state of discomfort in which Smoker currently found himself. He could only imagine what that blasted female wanted to see him for. "Very good, Lieutenant," he barked, shifting his stance from one foot to the other, a stray wisp of smoke floating from his shoulder. "Should you see the Captain, you may tell her that she can," mind her own goddamned business "meet me in my office in half an hour." He didn't wait for an answer, but continued his rather halting progress down the corridor. 

Tashigi blinked after him, then gave a sharp salute to her captain's back, heels clicking. "Hai!" She hurried dutifully in the opposite direction to find Hina-taisa and deliver this message.

* * *

"He really is a stubborn boy," Hina said, smoothing the magenta of her slacks before crossing her legs. She sat back comfortably in a chair across from Smoker's desk, folding her hands on her knee. "Hina could get nothing from him."

Smoker grunted in something like agreement, obsessively smoothing the wrinkles of his jeans with the palms of both hands under his desk. He leaned back in the high-backed chair, doing his best to appear casual. He should have known the damned woman would have utterly ignored Tashigi's carried instructions. Smoker had barely had the time to sit down at his desk before the woman was entering his office, looking as smug as the cat who's caught the mouse. 

"He has quite a mouth on him, as well," she continued, musing, her eyes studying Smoker with calculation. "Confident little thing. Did you have any better luck?"

Smoker raised a brow and gave his thigh a subtle sort of rub beneath his desk. Damn that woman... "To be perfectly honest, Captain, I'd expected the pirate to be a bit more... broken in when I arrived. Instead, I got the feeling you'd offered him tea and chatted about the weather. Were you expecting me to do all the work?"

"Hina *told* you that interrogation is not the specialty," she responded, unruffled. She met Smoker's gaze evenly. "Wouldn't want to take all the fun."

"Oh yes," Smoker did his best to roll his eyes, inwardly cursing the woman and her presence. "The fun of utter failure to draw any sort of useful information from the most stubborn pirate on the Grandline." 

Hina sighed with a shake of her head, then tapped her chin lightly with delicate fingers. "Not good. The government is very antsy about information about White Beard." She paused for a moment before a smirk curled her painted lips. "Perhaps tomorrow we should both try," she said innocently.

Smoker did well hiding the choke that seized his throat and silently cursed the maddening jump his still-hard cock gave. Goddamned woman. He couldn't stand her smug superiority, her way of speaking as though she knew exactly was was going on in his head. And in his pants. And he couldn't decide what made his teeth grind harder, the idea of pushing off the woman and her infuriating habits onto Ace (a fitting punishment, for letting himself get caught after all) or the spark of not-quite jealousy that arose at the idea of sharing any more of Ace with Hina at all. "Not a chance," he managed after too long a pause. "The little shit is your responsibility. Not mine."

Hina sighed again, with another sad shake of her head. "So stingy, Smoker-kun," she said, with as close to a pout as her stoic appearance would allow. "I suppose Hina will have to, as they say, pull out all the stops." She seemed to ponder over this thoughtfully. "When will you be shipping off?" she asked then, casual. "Give Hina another chance at dinner? You should bring that charming first lieutenant of yours."

Smoker raised a brow at the suggestion, but in the interest of getting the other captain out of his office as quickly as possible, offered a sharp nod. "We should be on our way by tomorrow. Will tonight suit you well enough?"

"Of course," Hina replied with a thin smile. She slowly began to pull on her gloves again. "Hina has an appointment," she explained easily. "Forgive my haste."

Smoker's nod was brief, lips spread thin in what he hoped looked like professional seriousness. "Tonight then," he confirmed and turned back to a stack of papers on the desk.

The woman stood, pulling her jacket around her shoulders before slipping a cigarette from the inside pocket of her blazer. A quick pat and a soft frown before she turned back to the other captain. "Do you have a light, Smoker-kun?"

Smoker rifled through his jacket, skillfully hiding his annoyance behind a characteristic scowl, but his own matchbook proved to be empty. Dammit, had he been smoking that much lately? He tossed the scrap aside and pulled open the desk drawer. 

Hina's hand darted into his vision -- she was leaning over his desk, her free hand gracefully supporting her on the oak surface, hair brushing his papers. Her fingers deftly plucked the second matchbook from his drawer before easing back with a toss of blond. 

"That will do nicely," she said, striking the match and lighting her cigarette. A deep drag stained the filter with her dark lip color and for a moment she stood there, letting the smoke linger around her fine features. She tossed one more long-lashed glance at Smoker. "Not even going to walk a lady to the door," she observed. Not a question, not a suggestion. Hina, he knew, had no genuine desire to treated as a lady. It was one of the reasons she made such a good Marine captain. It was a tease, a jab, if a subtle, quick one. She smiled one last time, waving her hand with the cigarette tucked comfortably between two fingers, trailing smoke lightly as she turned on her heel for the door. "Tonight."

As the door shut behind the woman, agonizingly slowly, Smoker shut the drawer, not hard enough to call it losing his temper, but with just enough force to send the cup of writing utensils scattering across the desk. Finally. Finally the woman was gone. With a pained sigh, Smoker bit into the finger of one glove, pulling the leather free, letting it drop from his mouth onto his lap. Leaning back into his chair, he gave up trying to ignore all thoughts of the freckled pirate and undid the button of his jeans. 

* * *

Ace'd been sleeping when supper arrived. It was the clink of the key, the spin of the lock that woke him and he slit one eye open. The light that flooded into the cell stung his vision, forcing him to squint. His body ached with every movement -- the prolonged exposure to the seastone was starting to really drain his energy. Smoker's attention earlier that day hadn't been much help, either. He wondered if there was ulterior motive there -- if in part at least, it'd been a way to drain him of even more energy, to wear down the fight in him. Not that it mattered, either way. He wondered if the captain would return the next day for another interrogation.

The prisoner offered a weak grin up at the kid that dropped off his meal, barely older than his own brother. He was obviously green, skittish as he pushed the metal tray across the stone floor even after the third night. "My only friend here," Ace drawled, finding his voice rather hoarse. "Thanks, private." 

The boy blanched and scrambled back more quickly than usual. The door creaked shut again. Ace didn't pay much mind -- he was far too interested in the cold-looking soup and coffee that had been placed in front of him. It was awkward, eating with his wrists lashed together but he was starting to get used to it. It took a moment though, to will his aching muscles into action.

His ears pricked up as he reached for the tray.

"Captain! Vice Admiral!" The boy again, just outside. Dismissing himself. 

"Hina does apologize for the inconvenience, Admiral Komiru." Ace frowned slightly to himself at the woman's voice. That name sounded familiar. 

"Mm. Don't bother, Captain." A deep, male voice. Even more familiar. "All in the line of duty, especially for the sake of helping along an investigation."

The coffee was only warm -- just enough to offer the tiniest bit of heat through the thin porcelain -- and black, to boot. He was bringing it to his lips when a figure cast shadow on the cell and he glanced up at the man who was looking in on him. Bald mostly, but what hair he did have stuck wildly every way from the back of his head. The black line of a mustache traced over his upper lip. Ace remembered the man; he was the one he'd had to deliver that letter to. Probably there to identify him.

"That's him all right," Komiru rumbled, confirming Ace's suspicion. "Looks rather different without the mustache, but it's him." Ace only raised an eyebrow as the man glanced him over briefly between the bars, then turned away, back to Hina. "Caused quite a stir at my base."

"He's quite good at that," Hina replied, somewhat blandly. They were moving away from his cell.

Ace gave a tiny sigh as he brought the coffee cup to his lips. Just loved being talked about like he wasn't right behind that door. The black coffee was hardly what his parched throat and dry lips wanted -- but it was something. His freckled nose wrinkled as he tasted the bitter drink, then resigned to it, tilting the cup back.

Something brushed his lip, giving him pause. Hina and Komiru were still slowly making their way down the hallway -- he could hear them talking about some procedure or tactic or something equally boring and Marine-y. Ace let the object slip past his lips. It rested heavily on his tongue, small, metal... a key.

Maybe black coffee wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

The next morning the base was in quite a stir, uniformed men running this way and that. Smoker's frown only grew deeper as he approached the brig and the swarming, panicked Marines cluttering the room and the hallways beyond. Smoker didn't bother asking, just pushed his way down the hall, wanted, for some reason, to see for himself. 

At the end of the hallway, past furrowed brows and wringing hands, Portgas D. Ace's cell lay empty but for a charred message across the far wall: Catch me if you can.


End file.
